[The press of her lips is brief, but Bran takes comfort from the kiss--a sister's kiss might give any brother courage, not only a child--and still more comfort from her smile. It is not one that should inspire strength--there is worry in it--but it is a smile, a Sansa smile. Sansa will allow him his chance.
So--bolstered by pillows and bolstered by both smile and kiss, Bran nods solemnly and shuts his eyes.
It is difficult to slip into even Summer's skin like this. It is easier when it comes as a dream, when Bran simply opens his eyes in sleep and finds the direwolf instead of the boy--he must remember how to do it this way, the way that is choice and not chance--
Lady. He thinks of Lady, pale and prim and pretty and still a direwolf for all that, with a direwolf's large paws made neat by courtesy that she took from Sansa. Only she was wilder here, more prone to disobedience, and she was growing, catching up with her brothers in the lengthening of her legs, and when she ran she would soon be able to keep pace with them, a pack running swift in the metal corridors--
And suddenly Bran finds her--like a cloak cut for someone else, stitched for them; he could fit in but he kept pushing out, and he clung to the wolf, tried to smell what she smelled, metal and blood and the air tastes of it, too--and her paws slippery on the floor and everything is dangerous and painful and lions--
And somewhere on the ship, a boy's chest rises once in a deep breath--and then even breathing shallows, and he falls still, stiller than one even asleep.]
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So--bolstered by pillows and bolstered by both smile and kiss, Bran nods solemnly and shuts his eyes.
It is difficult to slip into even Summer's skin like this. It is easier when it comes as a dream, when Bran simply opens his eyes in sleep and finds the direwolf instead of the boy--he must remember how to do it this way, the way that is choice and not chance--
Lady. He thinks of Lady, pale and prim and pretty and still a direwolf for all that, with a direwolf's large paws made neat by courtesy that she took from Sansa. Only she was wilder here, more prone to disobedience, and she was growing, catching up with her brothers in the lengthening of her legs, and when she ran she would soon be able to keep pace with them, a pack running swift in the metal corridors--
And suddenly Bran finds her--like a cloak cut for someone else, stitched for them; he could fit in but he kept pushing out, and he clung to the wolf, tried to smell what she smelled, metal and blood and the air tastes of it, too--and her paws slippery on the floor and everything is dangerous and painful and lions--
And somewhere on the ship, a boy's chest rises once in a deep breath--and then even breathing shallows, and he falls still, stiller than one even asleep.]